


Your Rhythm Makes Me Move

by AndiiErestor



Series: Oracle of Imladris [7]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: B2MEM 2019, Exhibitionism, Frottage, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, doesn't really feel like something either of them would be doing but..., lap dance, this one got away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 17:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiiErestor/pseuds/AndiiErestor
Summary: "What stood before him now was no figment of his imagination."





	Your Rhythm Makes Me Move

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dalandel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalandel/gifts), [Ulan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/gifts), [peasantswhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peasantswhy/gifts).



> B2MEM 2019 - O72 prompts:
> 
> \- Rhythm  
> \- Shock  
> \- Waiting in the Wings
> 
> B2MEM 2019 - B11 prompts:
> 
> \- SUDDEN DEATH (of a character in the story)
> 
> B2MEM 2019 - G54 prompts:
> 
> \- In the next 500 words your character does soemthing totally OOC.
> 
> \---------------  
> To be clear, there is no death as one might commonly think of it.  
> \---------------
> 
> This bitch WAS supposed to be 500 words. Turns out I can't actually write 500 words.
> 
> This also doesn't comfortably fit into the AU and may be edited at a later date, but here it is anyway.

Glorfindel sat transfixed.

It was late. He was tired. He’d had many a glass of wine – perhaps even one too many – and yet he knew…

What stood before him now was no figment of his imagination.

There Erestor was – or someone who looked very much like him, wearing loose trousers of such a light material they were practically see-through – posed for a dance, while Gildor smirked from his seat by the fire.

The travelling elf had pulled him aside after dinner and requested his presence until the very _end_ of the evening – making sure that Glorfindel understood he truly meant _till the end_ before taking his own seat by the fire to play for the people of Imladris. And there Glorfindel was now, a single chair in the center of the room, where Gildor had placed him as the last elves had left the hall.

Glorfindel tried to find the words to describe what he was seeing, but fell utterly short of the wonder and majesty embodied in the elf he so loved, and settled instead to let his body do the talking as Erestor danced, thankful that Gildor had deigned to look away at last.

Sensually, Erestor danced closer and closer, pressing up against Glorfindel, running his hands up and down Glorfindel’s chest, twirling Glorfindel’s hair around his finger, tickling the tip of Glorfindel’s ear, or caressing Glorfindel’s thighs.

The music played louder and faster – the bard having added the sound of bells and a light drumming as he tapped a tambourine lightly with his foot – and Erestor became _one_ with it. His hips swayed and his arms twirled about, adorned with more bracelets than Glorfindel could count. Together they chimed and brought the rhythm to which Glorfindel’s arousal grew.

A change in pitch, and suddenly Erestor was before him, hands in Glorfindel’s hair and pulling his head back, _slowly_ crawling onto his lap. One leg hooked over Glorfindel’s thigh, the other kneeling on the chair between them, giving the blond something to _feel_ more concrete than the brief teasing touches he’d been victim to thus far.

Erestor’s movements changed to something impossibly slow now, curling his hips forward and back, around in circles and back again until Glorfindel thought he’d go mad.

Slender fingers tangled in his hair, arms braced against his shoulders for leverage so Erestor could _keep moving_ while he alternated between massaging his scalp and _pulling back_ to bare his neck, though he did nothing but pant and smirk against it.

When Glorfindel thought he could bear no more, Erestor raised himself up off the knee between Glorfindel’s legs and snaked the leg over Glorfindel’s other side, allowing him to fall completely into Glorfindel’s lap, pressing deliciously against him, and using his grip on the mass of golden hair to press their lips together also.

Lips caught between teeth and tongue as they breathed heavily into each other before Erestor _pulled_ again and brought his lips to Glorfindel’s neck, biting and sucking a large bruise around his apple where his soldiers would see it the next day. Glorfindel moaned at the sensation of being so thoroughly surrounded by pleasure and his hips rose lightly up.

Erestor was all but fucking himself against Glorfindel’s straining cock, and Glorfindel though he may as well have been naked, for how he felt Erestor’s arousal against himself and that’s when he noticed that Erestor was wearing nothing _but_ the see-through clothes.

Despite the low lighting, provided only by the fire left in the hearth and hidden in part behind the visiting musician, the doors to the hall were still wide open. Gildor still sat in the corner of the room – eyes averted, but present. And Erestor –

All this time, had been dancing and playing up against him as though they’d been alone.

It was that, finally, that caused Glorfindel to reach forward – all this time having not been able to decide what to do with his hands – and grasp Erestor’s hips steadily, slide down the chair _just so_ , giving him the proper amount of leverage to grind _back_ against his mysterious lover.

Erestor hummed in pleasant surprise, letting go of Glorfindel’s hair finally and grabbing onto his shoulders instead for better purchase. Glorfindel took advantage of no longer having his head pulled back to take his turn at Erestor’s throat, leaving smaller marks, in multiples just below the light scar left there from long ago.

The fey darkling whimpered and joined in Glorfindel’s efforts to bring them closer together, no longer dancing around him for entertainment, but pressing their groins together for one purpose only.

Erestor moaning into Glorfindel’s shoulder, and Glorfindel grunting with the effort to raise his hips in their awkward position until Erestor was struck with an idea.

He pressed his lips to Glorfindel’s quickly before standing, painstakingly and as quickly as he could before he changed his mind. He turned around and pushed Glorfindel’s knees closer together before sitting back on his lap, facing away from him.

Erestor leaned back and threw one arm over Glorfindel’s shoulder, pulling him forward into another kiss. With his other hand, he guided Glorfindel’s back to his hips, encouraging him to take hold and _use him_ to find his pleasure.

And so Glorfindel did, though it didn’t take much longer than Erestor once again reaching down to take Glorfindel’s hand, press it against his erect cock where Glorfindel could feel the entirety of it through the light fabric, and simply hold it there – letting their movement do all the work.

Glorfindel struggled not to close his hand against it as he reached his peak, feeling the wetness of Erestor’s end against the palm of his hand instead. Their groans muffled together as their lips still met, though the need for air eventually pulled them apart.

When they finally opened their eyes again, having not realized they’d closed them to begin with, Erestor was collapsed against Glorfindel’s chest, panting and Glorfindel was staring at the corner of the room where Gildor was no longer sitting. He hadn’t noticed the elf leaving, but was glad for it.

He tried to find words once again, though he knew it was pointless, to say to Erestor, but seeing Erestor turning toward him with a flush high on his cheeks and a brightness in his eyes, he accepted that words meant nothing compared to the folly they’d just shared.

Instead, he smiled softly and pulled Erestor to him for a kiss, before his dark lover pulled away and went to put out the fire with the help of the watering can left next to it, leaving Glorfindel to awkwardly scramble to the side to put his chair away.


End file.
